


Kiera, Kera, Kara.

by roseflushpearlsnblood



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Cat’s POV, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseflushpearlsnblood/pseuds/roseflushpearlsnblood
Summary: What goes on inside Cat’s mind when she sees Kara.Cat’s been infatuated from day one and this is her thought process of how she deals with such feelings.What happens after wrong names, too sunny smiles and too much alcohol?
Relationships: Astra/Alex Danvers, Kara Danvers & Cat Grant, Kara Danvers/Cat Grant
Comments: 8
Kudos: 140





	Kiera, Kera, Kara.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m horrible at summaries. Please forgive the way I write because it’s a little strange to write in second person but danggg it was fun. I hope you enojoy this read!!

You’ve had your eye on her the first day you saw her. And in that one singular moment, that muted glimpse through the glass is enough to convince you of one thing: there’s more to Kara Danvers than it looks to be.

She sits there fidgeting with her black frames and occasionally staring down at that printed puppy notebook she has. You won’t deny that you keep stealing glances at her, nodding absently through whatever the candidate in front of you is spouting. When you finish with the hopeful before her, you’re tired and irritable, so so sure that no one would be competent enough to take on the job.

All of that changes when she walks in, yes, her hair is still in that mousy bun, her brightly printed dress shirt resembles what one might dress their child in for a preschool interview, and she’s smiling, glowing even.

She’s been sitting there since that morning, waiting for the impossible interviews to end. Others would be discouraged by the stream of people making their sorry way out of the fishbowl office. You reckon one of them pissed themselves because there’s a slight acrid smell lingering.

But she’s still smiling after all that, sticking out an uncouthly calloused palm for you to shake. At first, you just stare at her, surprised at her audacity and her boldness to just walk in and shake the queen of all media’s hand like it isn’t something sacred.

The sheer act of brazenness urges you to pull out the hand sanitiser from your desk drawer. Still, you’re momentarily stunned by how the lines of her eyes crinkle up in a familiar motion as she smiles like she’s just won the lottery.

You shake her _rough_ hand and as if the universe itself is making fun of you, your lips stretch into a small smile in response.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, she gets the job.

Kara Danvers marks down the entire lecture you go on, everything about regulation rules, no crying in the office, nothing less than steaming, or even boiling coffee. Her handwriting is wide and swirls in large loops, making childish curves in her lettering. She catches you staring at her words and nervously rambles about how she would write neater if the documents are delivered to you.

You don’t make a comment about that but your heart warms a little at how she’s willing to adapt to your personal needs.

At the end of it all, you give her a to do list and tell her to get out of your sight and finish it. You even call her the wrong name for good measure because this one blonde millennial is getting in your head a bit much.

* * *

All beginnings are rough. You learned that from your first teacher: Katherine Grant.

Beginnings are rough but one must be multifaceted enough to adapt. You must not let your mind stray to the way Kara Danvers delivers your latte each and every morning at the perfect temperature. You have to quell the smile that threatens to rise just because she’s doing her job well. That doesn’t even deserve a compliment, much less a smile. She’s just doing her job. There’s nothing special here.

You can’t help it. You fall for her.

You fall for how she manages everything smoothly without fail. Her sweet-cheeked smile present every morning with a “Hello Miss Grant.” And every night with a “Goodbye Miss Grant.”

You fall for the way she pushes her frames up every now and then. When the glasses begin their descent down her nose, she nudges them upward and without missing a beat, she’s back to answering phone calls and digitalising your ever changing schedule.

In an effort to quieten your traitorous mind, you send her on more outside errands, more coffee runs. You even make up impossible orders and turn the most mundane tasks into large complicated ones.

Kara Danvers, to your chagrin, doesn’t even blink twice.

Not even when you call her the many variations of her name. Kiera, Kera, Kina, Keera...you could go on and on.

She still carries that horrendous planner, still makes her scrawls in loopy handwriting and completes each and every task with impeccable timing.

When she passes you handwritten lists or post it notes to summarise the hour long phone calls you make her answer, the writing is neat. Clean and spaced accordingly, no pen smudges or gel ink splatters.

You’re hard on her. Always overly honest, too direct. You insult her wardrobe daily, give her things to do that would make Miranda Priestly blush and offer her nothing but wrong names and clipped yeses.

It still never puts her off. She keeps smiling that “Sunny Danvers” smile and nods along, scrawling down her notes so quick it looks like a blur.

* * *

There’s no other assistant that could be that dedicated. Kara has never revealed any of your secrets, tales of your late night drinking expeditions, your doses of medication. None of it ever comes out to the press.

You take her for granted.

You are meaner and meaner to her, until one day, she throws down her notebook and shouts those same words back in your face. She has had enough and there’s this sick sense in you that rejoices. You’ve finally broken Kara Danvers.

But the sane part of you stumbles, your physical body collapsing into one of the plush couches that adorn the front of your office.

“Miss Grant!” Kara gasps quietly and takes you by the arm, helping you sit even though, you remind yourself, she’s mad at you.

No more games. You’ve had enough too.

“Kara.” Your voice is too breathy for your liking, it must be that whole heart rate debacle with your doctor again, _just eating fruits cannot sustain a person properly Miss Grant_.

‘Yes?” She asks, keeping a hand on your arm just in case you fall again.

You don’t feel the need to keep her grubby little paws to herself. This is Kara, the one who scrubbed CatCo’s lobby with a toothbrush when you ordered her to. She wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” This is definitely the drink speaking, alcohol always loosens your tongue and that’s why you try to avoid talking to people during one of your chain-drinking nights.

“I’m not repeating myself.” You stand up, feet swaying precariously in your four inch heels.

“Take it or leave it, Kara”. You said her actual name.

Kara fixes her glasses again, supporting your elbow. Her face is not red anymore, but she still breathes a little harder than usual. Those pale blue eyes however, widen a little at your correct referral.

“Yes Miss Grant, and umm, it’s okay.” She says, guiding you back to your desk and and seating you in your desk chair, the glass walls of the office, with the light from the screens behind you, blur into a mass of colour.

You don’t remember much after that.

The next coherent memory you have is the brief feeling of being lifted into someone’s arms and the strange feeling of being airborne.

* * *

You awaken to nobody there, dressed in your work clothes. But there’s a note on the table, covered in loose scrawls.

“I’ll take care of everything today, please rest, Miss Grant. Best, Kara.”

You scoff. Rest is for the weak.

You make your unsteady way to the closet and show up at the office an hour later.

When Kara, as if knowing you would go to work anyway, presses a latte into your hand, yougive her a proper thank you.

She responds with a pretty blush, a faint pink creeping into her round cheeks.

There’s something different in the air, less tense, less crackly whenever Kara comes near.

You’re soothed by her infectious cheer and with her, things go smoothly. You find yourself opening more and bit by bit, you fall in love with the girl.

A girl. When you yourself are a woman above the age of forty, and that’s being said kindly.

When you were her present age, Kara Danvers must have been an infant.

You berate yourself for this and there’s still this part of you that wants to retreat back into your fishbowl office and glare at the blonde again. But you can’t go back to that, not when Kara has you wrapped around her little finger.

She’s the one you tell your secrets to, provided there’s the aid of alcohol. Kara does try to hide the bottle from you but you humour her by pretending you hadn’t already been day drinking your way through the working hours.

Kara listens carefully during your long long stories, ramble should be a better word and it’s entertaining to see how she responds to each little detail. She shakes in her seat from anticipation and sucks in shocked little gasps at appropriate times. You just chuckle, the weight of alcohol holding down your lightened mind, and you rub your hands over her knuckles so she settles.

You start to know her too. Paying attention to the way she giggles while telling you about her foster sister. She doesn’t give too much away about herself but Kara is a good listener. She finds out you aren’t as impenetrable and collected as you look and with the right about of tickling, one could elicit a giggle from you.

Tickling. In broad daylight.

What has she reduced you to.....

* * *

The lines blur together.

After finding out she’s Supergirl. You’re relieved, so relieved that you fall on your large bed and cry your dry eyes out. Supergirl could want anyone in the world and there would be no chance for you, a measly earthbound _old_ human. It’s time to surrender. Give up all hope.

But Kara Danvers...you lost Kara Danvers too. Because the two are one and the same. What Supergirl can have, Kara Danvers can have.

You try but you can’t let go. You’ve always had trouble with letting the special ones fade away.

You keep loving the two sides of Kara. Supergirl or not. When she hovers above your balcony that night, in her blue suit and red cape. Your voice catches in your throat and all you can feel is the gentle hand caressing the bags under your eyes. Supergirl’s tone is concerned, but you can’t make out the words and you just stand there, still as can be, with her hand twining round and round your cheek.

It’s hard to believe both are the same, though you know the truth.One who zips around with a smirk and one who shivers beneath your hand on her knee.

You thought yourself to be crazy. There must be something wrong with you, for loving two people at once. Supergirl’s smiles make you feel like there’s something worth saving inside of you. Kara’s smiles are tossed like free candy but there’s always something more, a treat just for you, like finding a lone M&M package in Carter’s trash bag of Halloween candy.

Carter. You haven’t even thought him into the equation. He takes to Supergirl just as easily as he does to Kara. There’s a sense of hero worship that you yourself feel like is rubbing off on you. Carter adores Supergirl memorabilia and lights up when he sees Kara dashing about the bullpen.

He’s even the first one to tell you that Kara might reciprocate your feelings.

“She looks at you so much, mom. She smiles like there’s a t-Rex in the room when you walk in. Give it a try.”

Confidence escapes you the moment Carter puts those words out and you nod mutely.

* * *

You plan carefully.

Starting out with late night dinners at the office, some more late night talks, then ordering massive amounts of takeout and pretending Carter wanted her to come over for board game night.

They do have those game nights, where they sit around the game, Carter’s head resting on Kara’s knee as they gang up on you. You roll your eyes but you like the way your son interacts with her because she’s just so good with him.

You also start treating her to lunch under the pretence of “worker maintenance”. Kara has to remind you that CatCo employees aren’t robots and there is a certain satisfaction when you watch Kara dig in at the all-you-can eat buffets. Sometimes, you even join her.

The board game nights are now weekly and Kara shows up to each one without fail.

One day, just before that night, you catch her staring at you with wide eyes through the glass panels. You thought that was strange.

When Kara shows up, dressed less atrocious than normal, carrying a bottle of something and a bouquet of flowers. Your brow tightens.

The both of you stare at each other. You in your silk loungewear and her in a pale blue dress that flows to her knees, the colour of it matching her eyes exactly.

There are questions just waiting to be asked and none of you want to break the bubble. Yet, all of them are answered when Carter zips out the door, telling the two of them to have fun. In a quick stride to the window, you see Agent Scully and Kara’s nutty aunt embracing him and leading him into their car.

He’s spending the night. Kara informs you, setting down the bottle of sparkling cider.

Then she asks you out properly.

You heave a sigh of _finality_ and say yes. Because if it was up to you, the universe would have to wait until hell froze over. You are a _scaredy cat._

* * *

Where you previously brushed your hands over her skin, it becomes something harder but just as soft. Your hands, where once lighter than a breath of wind, are now firm and lingering. You’re so scared of tainting her, but she’s whole in your arms as she picks your up and whirls you in midair while telling you about all the things she admires about you.

Under the table, in the halls of the office, you linger there, reaching for her hand or just to rub circles over her knuckles while she sticks a tongue out, teasing you for being affectionate and not the prickly cactus she thought you to be. You sit at coffee shops with her. Noonan's might be a germ filled place but you feel grounded when she pulls you into her side and continues to slurp her so-sugary-it-should-be-illegal coffee. You tilt your head and kiss away the foam that sticks to the top of her lips.

* * *

You’ve fallen for her so many times that it feels wrong to claim another moment that makes your heart jump in your throat. No extraterritorial force is to blame, because she is luminous and you’ve always been attracted to one’s inner brightness.

When she stands bare in front of you, fake glasses scattered to some corner of the room. She shivers, immediately covering up from your gaze, despite the tautness of her stomach and the firm breasts that your eyes keep drifting to. 

You stop her hands and hold them to her sides, then you take her in, just like the first time you laid eyes on her, you are speechless. The little details are all there, the little freckles on the side of her hip, the golden skin that glistens in the amber lighting.

You’re in love, you fell for her again, another again to add to your ongoing list.

When it’s your turn to strip, she’s careful, kissing your jaw as she peels away the flimsy bra that you’ve put on especially for this occasion.

You know you’re not young and there’s a tinge of reproachwhen you catch your reflection in the bedside mirror. Kara’s not affected by it, if anything she’s more excited and uses a burst of superspeed to tackle you onto the bed.

The long awaited moment isn’t drawn out because she knows how you like things to be done and you both know the extent of your feelings. There are plenty more times to explore later on but right now, your body practically writhes with need. She bears you down into the mattress and traces the skin of your shoulders with her rough palms.

She marks whispered words of love into your skin with her lips, punctuating them with red marks that would take two days to fade. She sucks at your pulse point and kisses down your sternum, where, breaking away from the kissing, she rests her head against your heart.

“I love you.”She says, and raises her head so you can see the sincerity in her eyes. Her hands dance above the thatch of blonde curls between your thighs and only at the imperceptible nod you give, she kisses downward.

_I love you too._

Her head’s between your knees, tongue lapping at the point where you need her most, flicking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that creep out from beneath its hood. It’s exquisite, _it’s all you ever want_ , you think as you pull at the honey blonde locks, _it’s all you ever want for the rest of your life._

Just before bliss begins, Kara catches your gaze, giving you such a look of shy teasing, you’re compelled to pull her into a kiss, regardless of the tingling between your thighs. She quickly returns to the task and within a moment, she takes you to the heavens with a flat swipe of her tongue.

Your fingers twine into the hair at the nape of her neck, your mouth gasping her name.

_Kara. Kara. Kara._

* * *

When the morning comes, you wake up to find yourself settled on her chest,hair a mussed mess and splayed everywhere. She doesn’t look any better, there’s a trickle of drool from her lips, but you swipe the fallen strands back with a fond smile.

The sun streams through your open curtains and falls on her form, you start to get up, to draw the curtains shut, but she stops you.

“Leave it please, I like the sun.”

You acquiesce and when she murmurs for you to hold her, you pull her close and waits for her to fall back asleep.

Only then do you whisper a quiet thanks to the universe for meeting her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Sequel and finale up now!


End file.
